It had been years since the slave had faithfully served as my personal toilet, always managing to suppress any discomfort at the thought of me using him in such a way. But today was a different day. As he knelt before me, his eyes brimming with fear, I knew that he understood what was about to happen.
"Now," I said, my voice cold and commanding, "you will become a shit-eater."
The word sent tremors coursing through his body. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. I noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip as he struggled to comprehend what I had just said.
"You heard me," I snarled. "You are going to eat every single drop of my shit, and you're going to love it."
I watched as he closed his eyes in horror, his face contorting into a grimace of disgust. But there was nothing he could do; he was powerless under my control. With a cruel smile, I reached down and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at me.
"You're going to be a good little shit-eater for me," I whispered menacingly. "And when you're done, you'll beg for more."
I removed the gag from his mouth, knowing full well that the taste of his own vomit would mix with the awful stench of my feces. It was a cruel irony, but one that added to my pleasure.
As I lowered myself onto the toilet seat, my naked ass staring him in the face, the slave could do nothing but stare in horror. I could see the fear in his eyes, the disgust mixed with an undeniable sense of anticipation.
"Suck it up, slave," I hissed venomously. "And don't you dare throw up this time."
I savored the moment, watching as he struggled against the unknown. Slowly, I clenched my asshole, forcing a small turd to protrude from my anus. The slave's eyes widened in terror, his entire body trembling as he realized what was about to happen.
With a dull thud, the turd landed in his open mouth, filling it with the nasty taste and texture of feces. He gagged again, and I felt a rush of power course through my veins as I watched him struggle to swallow.
"That's it, slave," I purred. "Get used to the taste of shit."
I pushed him further, making him work to swallow every last bit of my shit. The smell was overpowering, but I reveled in it, knowing that this was the ultimate form of humiliation for him.
As he finally managed to swallow the last of it, I sat back with a smirk. "You've done well, slave," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "But there's more where that came from."
With a chuckle, I stood up and pulled his face close to mine. "Remember," I said, my breath hot against his face, "you're a shit-eater now. You will always be a shit-eater, and you will never forget it."
I watched as he pulled away, a look of disgust and horror etched on his face. But it was too late. He was addicted to the taste of my shit, and there was no turning back.
I walked out of the room, leaving him there to contemplate his newfound fate. In my mind, I already knew what he was thinking. He would be dreaming of the day when he could serve me again, when he could immerse himself in the thick, nauseating taste of his own feces. It was a sick thought, but it brought a smile to my face.
After all, in the world of BDSM, there was nothing more satisfying than total control over another human being. And today, I had taken that control to a new level. The slave was now mine, body and soul, and he would never be free of me.
